The Sword and The Scabbard: 03 Promise
by natsora
Summary: Lexington Trevelyan has given everything to the Inquisition, including her dominant arm. What else is there to give if nothing is left?


Promise

A sound intruded her sleep. Cassandra shifted, reaching out towards Trev's side of the bed. It was empty. She frown. _Where is she?_

It had been years since they left the Inquisition behind. Trev had given everything to the Inquisition, to doing good, to healing Thedas. She left it all only after she had no more to give. Having her arm taken away, her dominant arm no less, was among the least of the things she had offered up in sacrifice.

As much as Cassandra was furious at Solas, no Fen'Harel, she was thankful at the same time. He had given her more time with her. Trev who was barely holding on by the end, constantly in pain but still struggling to fulfil her perceived duty. Cassandra would have supported her to the bitter end if that was what Trev wanted. She'll send her love to the maws of death and destruction, watched her fight till there was nothing else left but a bitter ball of pain and agony. Cassandra would be the scabbard to Trev's sword in this.

But after? Cassandra would endure. It was what she was good at.

Five years, it's not a long time but it's forever for Cassandra. She got to spend that time with Trev. It's hard at first, making the adjustments for losing an arm. The tears, the fury, the helplessness, but they weathered through it all together. Trev helped her rebuild the Seeker Order. They watched it grow and guided it towards the ideals the Order was originally founded on. It was a time of relative peace. Yes, the search for Solas still went on but with no leads and even less intel, there was nothing either could do.

"Trev," she called out, her voice heavy with sleep.

As her eyes adjusted to the muted light of daybreak, she could see Trev. Her legs thrown over the side of the bed, body curled over something. Trev who was still proned to surprising her with little stories she had written, flowers she picked on her walks, and once a puppy she found on one of her trips into town. Said puppy was no longer a puppy but a full grown dog. Fur as white as the Frostbacks, an intelligent glint in her eyes. The dog whined, a sound high pitched and plaintive.

_Something is wrong._

Cassandra sat up and put a hand on Trev's shoulder. "Come back to bed, love."

She stiffened. The flesh under her palm was warm, more so than usual. But more alarmingly, it was trembling. Fully alert now, she slid off the bed and walked over to face Trev.

"What's happening? Trev talk to me," she asked as she knelt down.

Hands cupped Trev's feverishly hot face, lifting it up so she could see. Trev's brown eyes made black by the dim light were bright but glazed over. Trev squeezed them shut, shivering hard.

"Come on, come on, come back to bed," she coaxed. Trev could still be a child about these things despite the years. "You're burning up. Are you ill?"

Cassandra gently guided Trev to lay down but her body was stiff in a way that reminded her of the time when Trev's arm was actively trying to kill her. Her heart clenched in a familiar way, an old pain flared anew.

_What if..._

A groan, soft and weak, rippled through the still dawn air. Cassandra stiffened, fear ripping through her chest in a way it haven't had in years.

"Trev."

Her brown eyes open, uncurling enough to show Cassandra she was cradling her stump. The curse and the boon.

"Hurts," she gasped through gritted teeth, the sound harsh and ragged.

Cassandra pushed her fear aside. There would be time for that later. She had to concentrate on Trev now. Gently she eased the stump out of Trev's grasp, feeling the tremors that shuddered through her once muscle bound frame. Gingerly, she pulled up the sleeve of the thick woollen shirt that Trev had taken to wearing recently. The weather was still unseasonable warm. Was it a coincidence? How long had this been going on for?

There, right at the scar where skin was folded over bone to give Trev a smooth stump was a tiny small bloom of green lines like vines, reaching up towards the rest of the arm. She reached out, but Trev shied away, hiding the stump against her chest again.

"Hurts," this time with more force and fire. Memories of a time when Trev was constantly plagued by phantom pains flashed into her mind.

Before she could suggest Trev take a healing potion, her arm shot out and gripped Cassandra's night shirt. Fingernails digging into her shoulder. Cassandra refused to wince.

"Is the anchor back? Am I dying again?"

The questions stole her breath. Cassandra had no answers, just the same cold clenching fear in her chest that returned. She pulled Trev in for a hug, mindful of the stump that hurt her so. "I won't allow it," she hissed into Trev's ear.

"I don't want to die, Cass," a broken voice for a broken hero that had given too much.

And all Cassandra could do was to hold her tighter as tears soaked her shirt. The seeker's face was a hard determined mask as she cradled her lover.

"You won't, I promise."


End file.
